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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371632">changeling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler'>envysparkler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shifters [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Shifters, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Pack Dynamics, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:01:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Bruce wonders if he adopted a child or a wolf.</p><p>("You’re pack, and no one will ever hurt you like that again.")</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shifters [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1142</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not tagging major character death, but it's Jason, so consider this your warning.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Hello, Jason,” Bruce said absently, shucking the cowl and cape as he headed for the shower.  Jason was waiting patiently near the Batcomputer, curled up on the small mound of cushions that Alfred had pretended to not notice Bruce pilfering from various rooms in the Manor.</p><p> </p><p>It had been three weeks since he’d found Jason stealing the tires off his Batmobile—three weeks into an investigation of Gotham’s pack foster system, kickstarted by Jason’s furious comments when Batman had tried to take him to an orphanage, and three weeks into taking care of a wolf cub, because Jason had responded to the news that Batman was dropping him off into Bruce’s custody by shifting and refusing to turn back.</p><p> </p><p>It had taken him nearly a whole week to coax Jason out from his series of small, enclosed hiding places, and Bruce had only managed to get that far by revealing that he was Batman, and he hadn’t abandoned Jason at some random rich guy’s house.</p><p> </p><p>That had clearly surprised the wolf cub, and he’d finally come out to have a proper meal and accept a few head scratches before retreating again.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce enjoyed Jason’s presence in the Cave—it was too silent with Dick gone, not that he’d ever admit that, and little huffs and curious looks as Bruce was working helped settle some of the shadows that had crept in when Dick had stormed out, not to mention Jason’s rapt attention whenever Bruce told him any stories about Batman and Robin.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce had to swallow the urge to call Dick nearly a dozen times—he wanted to hear his son’s voice and soothe the part of him that wanted to gather his pack close, but Dick had made it achingly clear that he wanted space.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce stumbled out of the shower, yawning.  “Ready for bed, Jay?” Bruce smiled as the wolf padded closer.  Jason always insisted on waiting for him to come back before he’d go up to his room.</p><p> </p><p>But this time, Jason hesitated.  Bruce paused, crouching down to be able to look the small wolf cub in the eyes.  “Is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>The wolf stared at the ground, clearly stressed, before he gave a tense little shake and looked back up.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you hurt?” Bruce asked, concern swiftly rising into fear, “Are you hungry—did something happen while I was gone—”</p><p> </p><p>Bruce cut off as Jason blurred.  There was a twelve-year-old boy standing in the ragged clothes Bruce had last seen in an alley, shifting from foot to foot in clear anxiety.</p><p> </p><p>“Jason?” Bruce blinked, taken aback.  It was the first time Jason had ever shifted in front of him.  “Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Jason mumbled, his gaze fixed below Bruce’s jaw, “I—I just—” He fell silent and instead crooked a finger in the collar of his worn red hoodie, tugging it down enough to bare his neck as he tilted his head to one side.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce froze.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” he asked, straining to keep his voice level.  When he’d brought Jason home, he’d intended the custody to be temporary, a short stay while Bruce fixed the mess the gangs and traffickers had made of pack fostering, but that excuse had flown out the window the first time Jason had decided to curl up in his lap to bask in the afternoon sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce’s heart had ached so badly to bundle the kid up and claim him and bring him under the pack’s protection, but he knew that Jason was still wary of unknown packs and any decision to join the Wayne pack had to come from him.</p><p> </p><p>And here he was.  Asking.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Jason said softly, “Yes, I want to—if you want—” Jason’s gaze swiveled back to Bruce, abruptly scared, “If you don’t—I’m sorry—”</p><p> </p><p>Bruce cut off his apologies by stepping close and gripping his shoulders.  “It would be an honor to welcome you to my pack,” Bruce said gently.  Some of the tension left Jason’s thin frame, but not all of it.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce led Jason back to the pile of cushions—Jason was trembling, but knelt on the cushions, his neck still bared, and Bruce curled an arm around his shoulders before leaning forward and carefully, delicately biting the junction of neck and shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>It would hurt like a strong pinch, and there would be a bruise for a couple of days before it faded to a light impression, but nothing compared to the bond that snapped into place, filling Bruce’s heart with the warm presence of his second son, his little wolf.</p><p> </p><p>Jason went limp the moment Bruce’s teeth touched his neck and Bruce waited patiently for him to come back—Bruce remembered only the haze of warmth and love as a small child, but Alfred had told him it felt like the world suddenly shifted on its axis, and Dick described it as the sun growing inside of him and filling him with light.</p><p> </p><p>Jason stirred weakly in his arms and Bruce let him shift upright.  To his surprise, Jason’s face was twisted in a scowl.  “You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass,” Jason snarled, “I can take it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Take what?” Bruce blinked, confused.</p><p> </p><p>“The claim,” Jason snapped, “I’m not a baby, I can handle it, you didn’t need to stop.”  And then his expression abruptly went shadowed, “Unless you changed your mind about having a Crime Alley brat in your—”</p><p> </p><p>“Jason,” Bruce cut him off, “I am thrilled to have you in my pack.  Why are you upset?”</p><p> </p><p>“Then <em>claim me</em>,” Jason shouted, his voice cracking, “I can take the pain, I’m not a—”</p><p> </p><p>“Jason,” Bruce said, bewildered but not liking the direction this was going, “I <em>did</em> claim you.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Jason shook his head, “I know what it feels like, you barely even touched me, you didn’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t you feel the pack?” Bruce asked, because he could feel Alfred and Dick and Jason, all warm and safe, though Jason’s bond was ticking slowly into distress.</p><p> </p><p>Jason froze, his eyes going wide as he stared into the distance.  He slowly reached out a hand, splaying it over Bruce’s heart, like he was searching for physical evidence of the bond.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Jason whispered, beginning to tremble, “No, that’s not what a claiming bite feels like.  You didn’t—that isn’t—” He abruptly yanked down the collar of his hoodie all the way, feeling along his neck like he was expecting to find a large wound instead of small, swollen red mark.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce’s gaze, however, was caught by the silvery scars that decorated Jason’s throat, arranged in half-circles and testament to deep wounds.  “Who did this to you?” Bruce asked, his voice going flat as he reached out a hand to trace over a scar.  Jason flinched violently and Bruce tugged his hand back, fighting the instincts to wrap his arms around Jason and make sure <em>no one</em> ever dared to hurt him again.</p><p> </p><p>“My—my old pack,” Jason said, his gaze still fixed in the distance as he stared down at trembling fingers.</p><p> </p><p>Jason thought—he thought <em>that</em> was what a claiming bite was supposed to look like.  He’d been prepared for Bruce to practically maul his neck.  He had—had he wanted to be part of the pack at all?  Did he think that Bruce was going to turn him back out on the streets if he didn’t agree to it?  Bruce had jumped at the chance to welcome Jason into his pack and hadn’t even bothered to check if that was what Jason truly wanted, if he—</p><p> </p><p>Jason burst into tears.  Bruce froze—his instincts were telling him that a pack member was in distress, to comfort them, to soothe them, but Jason only liked touch when he was the one initiating it and Bruce didn’t know what to do—</p><p> </p><p>Jason lunged at him, and Bruce’s dilemma was solved as he enveloped his son—his <em>son</em>, he could feel the bright starburst of the bond in his heart—in a warm embrace, tucking the crying child in his chest and stroking his hair as he made quiet murmurs to soothe Jason’s distress.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Bruce hummed, rocking Jason back and forth—even after three weeks of Alfred-sourced meals, the kid was dangerously thin—and rubbing his back, “You’re safe.  You’re pack, and no one will ever hurt you like that again.  You’re safe.  You’re home.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason let out another sob, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it, but he burrowed further into Bruce’s embrace, clinging tightly enough that it would take a crowbar to pry the kid free.</p><p> </p><p>If Bruce ever intended on letting go.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The situation with Dick…could’ve been handled a whole lot better.  Dick had been happy to have a new pack member, and had shown no antipathy to wolves before, but bursting in on a wolf dressed in the Flying Grayson colors had clearly been a shock.</p><p> </p><p>In Bruce’s defense, he had no idea that Dick was coming back home and Jason’s mischievous smile was even harder to resist than his wolf pout, if Bruce had been inclined to deny him anything, which he certainly hadn’t been.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, it was one step forward and two steps back—Dick had stormed out with an ultimatum that had chilled Bruce, and picked up only one of Bruce’s many calls before ignoring him entirely, and Bruce’s attention was split by his new son, who had seemed to take the situation with Dick as evidence that Bruce was going to kick him out.  An explanation of what had happened to Dick’s old pack was enough to soothe a few of Jason’s fears, but Bruce dreaded waking up to feel that one of his pack bonds was broken forever.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t expected to return home from a trip to find his eldest son back in the Manor.</p><p> </p><p>“Dick,” Bruce said, pretty sure he was gaping, “Jason.”  They weren’t sitting on the same couch, but they were clearly watching the same movie and even sharing a popcorn bowl.  There was no evidence of bloodshed in sight.</p><p> </p><p>“How was New York?” Jason asked, bouncing up, “Did you bring me anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Dick smirked, “He probably got you that shirt that says <em>‘at least it’s better than Gotham’</em> on it.”  And he wasn’t <em>wrong</em>, but Bruce was still stuck on the fact that his sons were in the same room and not at each other’s throats.</p><p> </p><p>“Dick,” Bruce repeated, “You’re back.”  He was trying to calculate all the possible reasons that Dick would have for returning home—hurt?  Some mission, either in Bludhaven or with the Teen Titans, that necessitated a trip to Gotham?  Or was Dick back to finish what he’d said he’d do, waiting to look Bruce in the face before tearing his ties to the pack?</p><p> </p><p>Dick’s smile slipped off his face as he stood up.  He crossed to stand in front of Bruce, his hands twitching into fists before slowly, deliberately loosening, and Bruce stayed perfectly still as Dick met his gaze with a blank expression.</p><p> </p><p>Dick exhaled shakily, and tipped his head up and to the right, baring his throat.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce abruptly remembered how to breathe again.</p><p> </p><p>“I was angry and I shouldn’t have said the things I said,” Dick said, his voice cracking, “I didn’t mean it.  I still want to be part of the pack.”</p><p> </p><p>Bruce didn’t waste a second before gathering Dick into a hug.  “Oh, chum, you’ll always be part of the pack,” Bruce whispered, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead, “I’m so glad you came home.”</p><p> </p><p>Dick returned the hug, burying his head in Bruce’s shoulder and making a suspiciously wet sniffle.  Bruce held tightly onto his son and let him cry.</p><p> </p><p>Jason watched from his armchair, his default scowl on his face, but he ducked his head when Bruce glanced at him, turning back to the TV with exaggerated nonchalance but no surprise.  Alfred had paused in the hallway beyond the door, watching them, and Bruce took the moment to mouth <em>‘thank you’</em>.</p><p> </p><p>His pack was home and safe and together under one roof, and Bruce was content.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Terror <em>screaming</em> through the bond, and Bruce urged the bike faster, he had to get there, he had to—</p><p> </p><p>Fear dimmed and Bruce cursed as he began to run, the warehouse was right there, his son was screaming for help and he was so close, it was right there—</p><p> </p><p>“Robin!”</p><p> </p><p>The warehouse exploded.</p><p> </p><p>The bond was still there, his son was still alive, he had to find him, he had to get to him, Jason was calling out for help and Bruce was so close—</p><p> </p><p>The wolf was lying on its side, dark fur stained and gleaming red in the light, chest moving jagged and wrong.  A gauntleted hand sank into dark fur as Bruce opened his mouth, ready to voice a command, to order Jason to shift back to human, to drag him to a hospital, to—</p><p> </p><p>Gasps, wet and weak and smoke-strained.  Blood pooling on the ground.  Broken bones shifting with every last, desperate breath.</p><p> </p><p>And Bruce couldn’t do it.  Couldn’t take these last few seconds of comfort from Jason.  “No,” he breathed out, stroking the dark fur, “Oh, Jay, I love you so much.”  <em>Please don’t leave me</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A choked, dying rattle.</p><p> </p><p>The wolf blurred and something cracked and shattered in Bruce’s heart, the body in his arms shifting back to a human corpse as one of his pack bonds snapped.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Bruce whispered again, quiet and soft, as tears dripped onto his son’s slack—bruised, burned, <em>bloody—</em>face.</p><p> </p><p>There was no pain in the world that could compare to the agony of a pack bond breaking.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter deals with Jason coming back.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Bruce tried to keep his emotions in check as he grappled across the city towards Nightwing and his fight with the Red Hood.  He reminded himself that Nightwing was perfectly capable of holding his own, but every time he remembered the large, vicious bruise over Tim’s throat, anger surged up inside of him.</p><p> </p><p>Nightwing was fine, they would finally capture Hood, and—</p><p> </p><p>The bond suddenly lit up with Dick’s distress and Bruce forced himself to move faster.  “Nightwing?” Bruce growled, instinctively checking his bonds—Alfred, Tim, Dick, Jason—“What is—” wait, <em>what</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Jason.  <em>Jason</em>.  The irritating itch he’d been feeling for months, a shielded bond, and he’d thought it was just feedback from Tim’s shielding, his presence scattered instead of focused, never imagined that it was a different bond kept hidden and covered and—</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Jason,” Nightwing said, stunned, “Jason’s the Red Hood.”</p><p> </p><p>Dick’s bond spiked with fear as Jason’s settled, and Bruce landed on the rooftop that matched Nightwing’s tracker, his heart in his throat—but there was no sign of a red helmet or a black-and-blue uniform, all he could see was patches of dark shadow—</p><p> </p><p>A wolf.  Pitch black, and Bruce only realized how big it was when he spotted the green eyes.  It was lying on the ground, head lowered, and a soft hooting as something smaller flashed forward, tugging at a single white patch on the wolf’s head.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce was reaching out before the scene finished registering, his hand wavering above dark fur, his heart beating far too fast as an empty hollow filled like it had never been gone.  “Jason?” Bruce said softly, and the wolf tipped its head with a soft whine, body tense.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce gave into the urge he’d been fighting, and curled a hand behind Jason’s ear, into fur he hadn’t felt in three years.  The owl fluttered back and Dick shifted before pressing against Jason.  “Little Wing,” Dick said softly, “It’s okay.  You’re safe.  You’re home.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason was here.</p><p> </p><p>Jason was <em>alive</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Jason was safe and pack and home.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce collapsed to his knees and buried his head into his son’s fur, not even trying to hide his trembling.  “Jay-lad,” he whispered, his voice breaking, “You’re alive.”</p><p> </p><p>It was a miracle.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bruce hesitated in front of the door to Jason’s room.  He’d bolted upright almost as soon as he’d woken up—Jason was alive, the pack bond hummed happily in his heart, but he had to be <em>sure</em>. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t entered this room in three years.  He took a deep breath and turned the handle.</p><p> </p><p>The bed was empty, and Bruce sighed as he crouched down and looked underneath it—Bruce had gotten intimately familiar with every hiding spot in the Manor big enough for a wolf cub—and was faintly surprised when he was met with green eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Jason,” Bruce greeted.  He’d expected to check a few more hiding places before he stumbled upon his son.</p><p> </p><p>The wolf regarded him levelly—he wasn’t growling, but neither was he coming out, lying tense and still.  Bruce reached out a slow, careful hand and watched the wolf’s hackles deliberately not rise.</p><p> </p><p>Jason made a low, irritated huff and snapped at Bruce’s hand, catching a hold of his sleeve and pulling him forward.  “Do you want me to join you?” Bruce asked as his shoulder strained painfully against the edge of the bed frame.</p><p> </p><p>Jason responded by tugging harder.  Bruce winced and eyed the gap under the bed—it was a tight squeeze for an adult wolf, it would be nearly impossible for him—before twisting his hand out of Jason’s grip and shifting.</p><p> </p><p>It was easy to claw forward and press up against Jason’s fur, letting the vibrations from Jason’s rumble reverberate soothingly through him.</p><p> </p><p>Jason was the Red Hood.  Jason had been the one to attack Tim at Titans Tower.  Jason had murdered several criminals in his three-week crusade in Gotham.</p><p> </p><p>Jason was pack and Jason was <em>home</em>.  Everything else could wait.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bruce knew every nook and corner of the Manor big enough to conceal a wolf cub—the same way he always looked <em>up</em> if he was ever searching for Dick, the same way he followed the sound of stillness if he was looking for Tim—but it was apparent by Jason’s grumpy huff that he’d discovered that there were precious few hiding spots big enough to conceal an <em>adult</em> wolf, especially one that no longer had the long-term damage of malnutrition.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Jay,” Bruce said, hiding his smile as Jason padded around the corner of the desk.  The wolf attempted to wriggle under the desk the way he used to, flopping over Bruce’s feet while Bruce attempted to get work done, held hostage by a napping wolf cub, but all of him didn’t fit and finally Jason just gave up and sprawled half-in, half-out, thoroughly trapping Bruce in his chair.</p><p> </p><p>Judging by the pleased flick of his tail, that had been the point.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce couldn’t resist the quirk of his lips, grown unpracticed to hiding his humor at Jason’s endearing mischief, and turned back to the last of the W.E. work he had to finish.  He debated over whether to bring up the topic lingering from his morning discussion, but finally decided that knowing was better than not knowing.</p><p> </p><p>“I talked to Tim,” he said quietly, and the wolf stilled.  Green eyes regarded him silently, ears drooping.  “He said he’s fine with having you here.”  Whether Bruce <em>believed</em> him was another matter—Tim’s ashen face provided an all-too-telling story of his real feelings.  “But I just wanted to let you know that if anyone feels uncomfortable, I will do my best to find a solution that works for all of us.”</p><p> </p><p>He and Jason could go to the penthouse.  Or Tim and Dick.  Or they could cordon off separate areas of the Manor.  Or—Bruce was selfish, he knew that, but he just wanted all his pack under one roof, together and happy.</p><p> </p><p>Jason turned away, pointedly expressing his disinterest in the conversation, and Bruce sighed.  “I’m glad you’re home, Jay,” he said softly, “I missed you so much.”</p><p> </p><p>There were so many other words he wanted to say—he had to explain that Tim wasn’t a replacement, he needed to understand why Jason had come back to Gotham so <em>angry</em>, he wanted to clear up the air on the furious arguments they’d had before Jason had left, proclaiming that he was going to find a pack that actually wanted him—but he had his son back and, for now, that was enough.</p><p> </p><p>Jason made a deep growl, but no attempt to move, and by the time Bruce finished his paperwork, the wolf was rumbling in the low vibration of sleep, curled up around him.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce stared down at Jason and mentally calculated the chances of extricating himself without waking his son up.  And then he sighed and reached for another stack of documents—at least Lucius would be pleased.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bruce was in the middle of a meeting when he felt it—Tim’s shielding lifted, and <em>hurt</em> slammed into the pack bond, a desperate cry for help.  He barely registered leaving the meeting, didn’t even remember the words spilling out of his mouth as he headed back to his car, everything screaming at him to go home, to find Tim, to protect pack.</p><p> </p><p>The distress cut out between one blink and the next, and Bruce had to actually stop and feel for the pack bonds to assure himself that Tim had just shielded his side and the bond was still there and nothing had broken.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce was aware that Tim and Jason were at home alone and several worst-case scenarios looped through his head as he made his way back, as he ran through the house, as he stumbled to a halt near the center of the Cave.</p><p> </p><p>Dick was on the floor, his head resting against the wall as he breathed heavily.  Tim was curled against Jason, bruises blooming along his arms, his hands clutching Jason’s fur like the wolf would disappear if he let go.</p><p> </p><p>“Tim,” Bruce said, ignoring the way relief made his knees go weak as he stumbled towards them.  He ran a hand through Tim’s hair and smoothed down a section of Jason’s fur.  “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim blinked at him, like Bruce was the odd one for suggesting something was wrong, like he didn’t have his arms wrapped around the one person he’d been studiously avoiding for the last week.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce gently drew one of Tim’s arms away from Jason, stretching it out slowly and raising an eyebrow when Tim winced.</p><p> </p><p>“I fell,” Tim said.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce disentangled Tim’s other arm from Jason, and the wolf uncurled slightly, gaze fixed on Tim’s bruises.</p><p> </p><p>“I was trying to make a landing on top of the bookshelf,” Tim said in response to Bruce’s pointed silence, staring at the floor, “I failed.”</p><p> </p><p>Dick hissed in sympathy, crawling closer to examine Tim’s arms.  “While shifted?” he asked, gently taking hold of one hand to observe the injury.  Tim yelped when Dick applied pressure at different points, but nothing seemed to be broken.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Tim said, his face subsiding into something that was almost a sullen pout, “And my back aches.  Flying hurts.”</p><p> </p><p>“You need practice, baby bird,” Dick huffed out a laugh, “And you’re a hawk.  You shouldn’t be flying so low to the ground.”</p><p> </p><p>Dick got Tim bundled up on the bed, carrying him for a short period when it became clear that Tim’s legs were shaking from sore muscles, and Jason stayed where he was, even though he’d previously been avoiding Tim as much as Tim had been avoiding him.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce eyed Tim, calculated the distance from the library to the Cave, and then gave Jason a look.</p><p> </p><p>Jason ignored him, and Bruce sighed.  Jason had several triggers for his shift—he did it to feel safe, he did it when he wanted to hide, he did it because he found a comfortable napping spot that didn’t feel the same while he was human, he did it to irritate, and he definitely did it to avoid confrontation.</p><p> </p><p>Jason had used the technique to great effect when he’d been a child—he’d shout something at Bruce and then shift so he had the last word, he’d shift mid-argument to derail whatever they’d been fighting about, he’d slink around in wolf form after something had happened that he didn’t want to talk about.  It was his way of saying <em>‘nope, I’m not having this conversation’</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And it was exactly what he was doing right now.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce had so many questions.  About how he came back, when Bruce had <em>felt</em> the pack bond break, had buried him in a grave that now had a broken coffin.  About <em>when</em> he’d come back, and why he hadn’t come home immediately.  About the Red Hood, and any possible link to the Joker. </p><p> </p><p>But if Jason wanted to stay a wolf in front of him, Bruce wasn’t going to say a word.  He could be patient, and none of his questions were more important than the second chance with his son.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Jason,” Bruce greeted wearily as he walked into the library.  Jason had taken to using the rug as a napping spot, especially since it was bathed in sunlight in early afternoon.  It had been a long night of patrol—Arkham breakout, and it had taken them nearly till dawn to get the prisoners back.</p><p> </p><p>Tim had taken the day off of school and he highly doubted that Dick would be out of bed before dinner.  Bruce was exhausted, but if he nodded off in the library, at least he’d have Jason for company.</p><p> </p><p>Except Jason wasn’t napping, he was on his feet, staring at Bruce.  Bruce slowly raised an eyebrow as he sank into the couch.  “Is something wrong?” he asked.  The problem with communicating in shifted form was the pantomime he had to interpret whenever Jason didn’t want to shift back and say out loud what he wanted.</p><p> </p><p>Jason shifted forward to nose at Bruce’s left leg—the leg that had been grazed by a bullet yesterday night.  “I’m fine,” Bruce said automatically.</p><p> </p><p>Jason gave him a distinctly unimpressed look.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to read something?” Bruce asked, changing the topic as he reached for the stack of books on the side table.  He avoided looking at Jason as he sorted through the titles and by the time he picked one, the silence had gotten stifling.</p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat as he raised his gaze and—</p><p> </p><p>Jason was standing in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce stared.  He had seen the Red Hood a couple of times, but this was his first time laying eyes on <em>Jason</em>.</p><p> </p><p>There was a white stripe in his hair, like the patch on his fur, and his eyes were a vivid green—Lazarus Pit, Bruce thought absently, which answered some questions and raised a whole host of others.  Jason had found a change of clothes at some point, because the armor and leather and helmet were nowhere in sight.</p><p> </p><p>He stared at Bruce, his jaw locked tight, for what felt like an eternity, before he slowly dropped to his knees and tipped his head back.</p><p> </p><p>“Jason—”</p><p> </p><p>“Just do it,” Jason said, his voice hoarse and hollow.</p><p> </p><p>“Jason, I don’t know—”</p><p> </p><p>Jason slanted his head enough to shoot him a glare, still baring his neck.  “I fucked up.  I attacked Tim.  I <em>bit</em> Tim.  I went after pack, so just do it already!”</p><p> </p><p>Bruce stared at him, and something fractured in his heart.  All those years, and it was still the twelve-year-old kid from Crime Alley trembling in front of him, a little wolf that had learned the hard way that the streets weren’t safe and had never forgotten the lesson.</p><p> </p><p>“Jason,” Bruce said quietly, reaching out to place a gentle hand to cover Jason’s throat.  Jason shuddered, his hands tightening into fists and his eyes squeezing shut.</p><p> </p><p>“I murdered people,” Jason said, his voice low, “And I’m not sorry.  They deserved to die.”  He snapped his eyes open, and they were almost glowing, “And I’ll never agree with you that they don’t.  The system doesn’t work, and a bullet does.”  He kept his defiant stare.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce took a deep breath.  The same argument that had led to Jason storming out of the Manor and straight to his death.  The one rule Bruce would not bend on.  And Jason was kneeling in front of him, clearly expecting that Bruce would force him to submit.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce reached out his other hand, cupping Jason’s face.  “None of that changes the fact that you’re my <em>son</em>,” Bruce said fiercely, ignoring the twinge of his wound as he slipped off the couch to kneel in front of Jason, “You’re my son, and I’m not going to hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason stared at Bruce, the mask of anger and bitterness slowly cracking, piece by piece, to the wounded hurt behind it.  Bruce didn’t know when the tears started, Jason was eerily silent, but the tracks glimmered in the sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>“Jay-lad,” Bruce managed to choke out before giving in to his instincts and enveloping his son in a hug.</p><p> </p><p>Arms tightened around him as Jason trembled, his shirt quickly growing damp as Bruce quietly stroked Jason’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re pack,” Bruce murmured softly, “You’re pack and you’re <em>home</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t perfect.  But it was a dream that Bruce never thought he’d get, and he was not going to throw it away.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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